


Haunted By You

by WhiteSky1999



Series: Hallow-Count 2k16 [1]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Don't Know How To Tag This, Gen, it's a weird romance/relationship, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 11:17:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8798809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteSky1999/pseuds/WhiteSky1999
Summary: For the Hallow-Count: Day 1: Deception / Abilities / Innocence / Illusion
Kanda is haunted by his past life even when he is awake.





	

Kanda startled and gripped the sheets with an iron fist. He frowned and glared at the wall. But it wasn’t the wall the object of his irritation. It was something only he could see.

The pale moonlight entered from the window, that window which he had punched so many times when he was younger, when he couldn’t stand it anymore and he just needed to _punch something_. There was a crack in the glass. Kanda didn’t remember how much time it had been there.

The Second Exorcist grumbled and rolled on the bed, facing away from the annoyance that was getting on his nerves. A soft voice floated around the room, but he just closed tightly his eyes and tried not to think of it. It usually worked. Not this time, it seemed.

“What the fuck do you want now?” he asked the darkness. He knew it wouldn’t answer, but he couldn’t give a damn. He just wanted peace for once. “Just leave.”

It didn’t. He sighed, suddenly feeling much older. He hated these nights. They were a nightmare. In a literal sense. After those apparitions, there were always those annoying _memories_. It annoyed him even more that he didn’t remember _anything_ about them. The firsts times it happened, it left him uneasy and Marie had been able to hit him more times than usual when they were training. He was lucky; Marie never asked.

He glanced at _it_ without turning his head. _It_ was still there. _It_ didn’t move. _It_ didn’t ever move. When he was younger and (he wouldn’t admit it) freaked out (scared), he would calm himself clinging to the idea that _it_ was just the exhaustion. Sometimes, after _it_ , when he went to sleep, he dreamed of the massacre of Laboratory Six. He _didn’t_ want to remember.

He wasn’t stupid. He now knew what that apparition meant. He had died. He remembered that. One of the things he wished he didn’t. And he… he had someone important. Yes. And he was damned to see her nearly everyday, floating around him, whispering broken dreams and promises. He wanted to tell her that he would go as soon as he could but… he was honest with himself. It was impossible.

With his _job_ as an Exorcist (he cringed) it was difficult to search for someone, even when he told himself that ‘he couldn’t die before finding that person’. He didn’t even know who that person was, exactly. He didn’t even know his appearance. He only knew her soft voice, her long hair tied up and the long dress she wore.

“Were you an Exorcist, like me?” he had asked one night, when he was around twelve year old. When he got no answer, he frowned. “Did you… die like me?” He didn’t get an answer this time, either. But, surprisingly, he didn’t get angry. He closed his eyes. “Did they… do the same… to you? Did they…?”

That night, he had dreamed with that… that _place_. Water as cold as ice, roses as red as blood, that hand with uncountable injuries, the sound of static, the damned lotus,  _‘Before the petals fall… you must…’_.

He had woken up with a yell, had made sure he wasn’t injured anywhere. He had looked around, like a lost child, expecting to see Alma (his _friend_ ) sleeping next to him. He would wake up too, ask him why he was awake and if it had been another nightmare. Then he would have smiled and suggested going to breakfast. But he wasn’t there (he wasn’t _going_ _to be_ there _ever_ because he was _dead_ , _killed by him_ ). He had trembled. He had hidden under the sheets. And he had cried.

…………….

After the battle in America, he hold on to the trembling and destroyed form of his _best_ friend. He didn’t want to sleep, even when he was exhausted. Alma deserved that much. He wouldn’t leave him alone. He blinked and raised his head when the splash of water broke the silence. His vision was blurry, but… those lotuses were really beautiful. And that dress…

At that moment, with Alma in his arms, he heard his murmur with _so much_ emotion in his soft voice, and… and he knew. He smiled.

_“I know.”_


End file.
